


Instant Pleasure

by philomel



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Time, Humor, M/M, On Set, Photographs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-05
Updated: 2011-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 18:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philomel/pseuds/philomel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>As a game, Jared and Jensen keep leaving pictures of themselves in each other's trailers. They get progressively dirtier as time goes on, and eventually, one of them sees a really good pic and goes to take what he wants.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Instant Pleasure

Jensen returns from a weekend in L.A. triumphant. Yes, on Monday morning he's still pleased as Punch about his flea market find: a vintage Polaroid SX-70 in excellent condition, with five film packs, for only a dollar. The kid who sold it to Jensen was a fool.

"An awesome fool," Jensen tells Jared as they clutch their first coffees of the day.

Jared appears unimpressed. "An old camera, huh? That takes shitty pictures that can't be spruced up with any apps? Wow. Jackpot."

Jensen scowls over the rim of his mug, muttering at his reflection in the dark liquid. "Kids today. Don't appreciate anything."

"But you already have a camera. Several. Nice ones too. What's so great about this one?"

Jensen sets down his coffee. He pulls the camera from the backpack by his director's chair, turns his back on Jared.

After the click and the whirr of the camera, Jensen hands Jared a milky photo, still developing. He leaves the camera on his seat, picks up his coffee and heads over to Serge, who's much more likely to share in Jensen's Polaroid glee.

When he returns to his chair, Jared is gone, but next to the camera are two photos: the one Jensen took and another identical to it, showing Jared's middle finger.

Game on, he thinks. _Game on._

 

That afternoon, he snaps a picture of himself blowing his nose on Sam's shirt. The shirt Jared needs for the scene they'll be filming after lunch.

He tapes the photo to the front door of Jared's trailer before sprinting off to his own. Jensen's door barely closes before he hears Jared's booming voice.

"Oh, fuck _you_ , Ackles!"

 

At the end of the next day, tired and bleary-eyed, Jensen rests his forehead against his trailer door while he fumbles to open it. His forehead sticks to something, and when he pulls back, he notices a Polaroid picture taped to the door. A picture of Jared sweaty and shirtless, probably after a workout. Which Jensen definitely does not find interesting. Not when he sees what is unmistakably _his_ favorite t-shirt — not Dean's but Jensen's own — being wiped under Jared's sweaty, smelly arm pit. Jared even took the time to draw wriggly lines in magic marker to indicate the stink.

Jensen really should have known better.

When he enters his trailer, he eyes his t-shirt where it’s draped over the couch almost exactly as he left it. But he walks right past it and picks up the camera. He knows just what to do.

 

On Wednesday, there's a lighting issue that sends them back to their trailers for an hour. So Jared and Jensen head for Jensen's trailer where he has last night's game Tivo'd and ready.

As expected, Jared grabs the box of chocolate doughnuts from Jensen's counter before sinking into the couch.

Jensen waits until Jared eats two doughnuts, then removes the Polaroid from his pocket and tosses it into Jared's lap.

Pausing with a third doughnut just at his lips, Jared glances down at the picture. In which Jensen's licking a broad stripe of his own saliva right across the row of doughnuts.

Jared's eyes narrow.

Jensen beams back at him.

But his smile disappears when Jared shrugs and pops the entire third doughnut into his mouth.

The fucker.

 

That doesn't stop Jared from retaliating anyway.

At the end of the night, Jensen finds a photo propped against the couch cushion where Jared had been sitting. It's a photo of Jared sticking a bright purple dildo in his mouth. On the white space beneath it, he's scribbled: _Is this yours too? Sorry for slobbering on it._

For some reason, Jensen sort of misses the big picture. Jared. Fellating. A Dildo. Or, you know, the _mocking_. No, what Jensen fixates on is the way the end of the dildo is clearly visible through Jared's cheek, stretching the skin. He can almost make out the ridge of the flared crown. And he can't help imagining it as his own. In fact, he tries not to imagine it, tries to imagine all sorts of non-cock-related things. But the mental image sticks: Jared stuffed full of Jensen's cock.

Jensen is instantly and painfully hard.

He snatches up the Polaroid camera that Jared left on the kitchenette counter. Without even thinking, he aims the lens toward his crotch, where he's massaging the length of his cock through his jeans.

The picture he tucks into Jared's messenger bag on the way to his car shows a blurred hand. But the hard-on beneath it is impossible to miss.

The writing underneath it reads: _Slobber on THIS._

 

By the following morning, Jensen regrets the photo. Seriously regrets it. He's uncharacteristically nervous when he arrives on set, fidgety and on the alert.

Jensen isn't sure if he should be relieved or more concerned when he finds the door to his trailer unadorned. His couch cushions are empty too. No photos show up anywhere else as far as he can see. And he looks, in drawers and cabinets, beneath all the furniture and even under the rug, twice. Only two conclusions can be made from this: either Jared hasn’t discovered the photo yet or Jensen has irrevocably fucked up their friendship.

If it's the former, Jensen is making it his mission to retrieve that photo before any damage is done. If it's the latter? Well, he's working on it.

Fate appears to be on Jensen's side. Jared greets him normally when they meet up for the first scene of the day. He's his usual cheerful self, high on sugar and caffeine, bouncing his script on his knee. So, with the stay of execution, Jensen takes every opportunity he can to gain access to Jared's bag. Thing is, those opportunities end up being few and far between. He almost gets caught with his hand where it shouldn't be. Which is... kind of how he got into this mess.

Slumped way down in his seat, his hand swinging back and forth, fake-casually, between the legs of their director's chairs, Jensen makes one more attempt at getting to Jared's bag while he isn't looking. He accidentally bangs his knuckles against Jared's chair. Failure, again.

"Dude." Jared raises his eyebrows at him.

With a sigh, Jensen pushes up off the chair. "Gotta piss."

"Enjoy," Jared says dryly.

Jensen doesn't really have to go, but he needs to get away for a little bit and clear his head, devise a new strategy to get that photo away from Jared before it's too late. A strategy a little cleverer than pointing and going, "Look! It's raining Laffy Taffies!" to distract him.

He's shaking off, about to flush, when something shiny catches his attention.

There, on his bathroom mirror, is a Polaroid photo.

First, the sinking feeling in his stomach prevents him from truly looking. Then he focuses in on the picture itself.

It's a cock.

Not a rooster.

And it could be anyone's, except that Jensen knows it's Jared. The hand holding it gives him away, as does the wristwatch. It's the same one Jensen gave him as a birthday present at the start of the season.

Worse yet, or better, Jared's cock is _hard_. Flushed almost purple, veins standing out, obviously quite thick girth given the way Jared's long fingers wrap around it.

Jensen's fingers curl around his own cock, stroking up the hardening shaft. He jerks off as fast as he can, never taking his eyes off the photograph.

It's only when he's cleaning up, turning off the faucet, that he notices the caption Jared added to this one.

 _Suck on it._

Jensen licks his lips.

This will take some planning.

When Jensen returns from the bathroom, Jared's on his mark and they're all ready to go. No time to fret over whatever the hell is going on between him and Jared. He finds his way into Dean's mindset and does his damn job. He's a professional like that. If Dean happens to stare at his brother in a manner unbefitting a sibling, well then, it's no secret that Dean's a fucked-up guy. It just adds another layer to the character.

 

Jensen is still hanging out in Dean's headspace when he cooks up his next move.

It's totally a Dean move, it's just that subtle.

He can't even shake off the Dean-like smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips when he carefully signs his newest self-portrait.

 _YOU suck on it.  
'Cause I'm older. And I said so._

The photo still has a bit of precome on it from where it fell in his lap after he yanked it one-handedly from the camera. It's dry now. He could probably scratch it right off and Jared would never know. But he leaves it on.

The list of stupid things Jensen has done in his life? It just got longer.

 

By the time they wrap for the night, Jensen gets Jared's response.

It's taped to the inside of his shower door, easy enough to miss, if he wasn't keeping an eagle eye out.

Jensen doesn't even know how Jared managed to get the shot done. It looks like it would need to be taken by someone else, and if Jared's arm wasn't so apparent, reaching toward the lens, that spark of jealousy in Jensen's gut would be a bigger flame right now. Instead, his cheeks burn at the image in front of him.

Jared is naked as far as he can see. Bare skin, tanned, muscled. Dark hairs sparse on his chest, denser below his navel. He's got the purple dildo again. But, _oh god_ , it's buried deep in Jared's ass. With Jared's legs spread wide, Jensen can see everything: the way Jared's hole stretches around the dildo, the way his balls rest over the silicon base. Jared's cock lays hard and heavy against the crook of his hip. And he has two fingers in his mouth, lips wet and pursed taut around them.

It's shameless porn. It's Jared taunting him. There's no mistaking it when Jensen reads Jared's answer to his last message:

 _You couldn't handle it, old man._

There is only one way to deal with this.

Jensen tears the photo from the door, stalks out of his trailer and over to the hair and makeup trailer.

Jared's there, just like Jensen suspected. Probably assumes he's safe in a communal place like this. But with a glance from Jensen, Jeannie's halfway to the door before he can even ask her if she minds stepping out.

Jensen waves the Polaroid in Jared's face.

"Is this what you want?"

Eyes locked on the photo in front of him, Jared doesn't meet Jensen's stare.

Jensen threads his fingers up into Jared's hair, tender at first, watching Jared's eyes slip closed as his fingertips drag over his scalp. Then Jensen grabs a fistful of hair and tugs until Jared looks up at him, eyes startled wide and mouth open on a gasp.

Jensen tosses the photo aside. "Wouldn't you prefer the real thing?"

Jared bites his lip, the brief downward flash of his eyes not quick enough to keep from giving him away.

His voice low and measured, Jensen says, "This is what you really want." Opening his hand and laying his palm flat against the back of Jared's head, Jensen guides Jared down. With his other hand, he undoes his belt and opens the front of his jeans, the clang of metal from the buckle not nearly as loud and harsh as Jared's breathing. Bent so far forward in his chair, Jared's hair falls over his face, obscuring the view for Jensen. But he can hear the small moan that escapes as Jared's nose nudges against Jensen's erection. His breath is too hot on Jensen as he nuzzles closer, tracing the bulging line with the tip of his nose. Jensen's cock twitches, releases a tiny bead of precome, wetting the material of his briefs. Then Jared's mouth is on him, wetting him further, lips pulling at the cotton then letting go, fabric snapping back and teasing Jensen. Jared's tongue slips through the slit of Jensen's underwear, stroking little kitten licks against Jensen's overheated skin. It's better, but it's not enough.

Jensen pushes at Jared's shoulder until he sits up. He steps back, and immediately Jared is on his knees in front of him.

Jensen pulls his cock free and points it toward Jared's face, the shining wet tip so close to Jared's mouth that he barely has to move at all, just snakes out his tongue, narrowing it to tease at the slit, then flattening it to swipe a wide path from the bottom of the crown right over the fat, pink head.

There's a glint in Jared's eyes when he looks up at Jensen, a sign of mischief. Jensen's ready to take hold of Jared's hair again, make him get on with it and curtail whatever wickedness he has in mind when Jared gives his cock a slow, lazy kiss. It's almost sweet, and Jensen lets go of himself to gently brush the hair off of Jared's forehead.

That's when Jared disarms him. Raising himself slightly on his knees, Jared angles his head and leans forward, taking Jensen in all the way.

Jensen feels Jared's nose press against his pubic bone, feels his cock hit the back of Jared's throat and the flex of muscles there as Jared fights his gag reflex then swallows. It's so tight and wet around him. It takes his entire reserve of orgasm-staving imagery to keep from coming right then and there. He's thinking of Kripke in a Playboy Bunny get-up when Jared pulls back, sucking hard along Jensen's entire length. Panting, he peers down at Jared through glazed eyes. Jared's staring up at him, smug grin bringing his dimples out in full force. It's so not fair.

"Would you like me to continue?" Jared says, cool as you please, only the rasp in his voice betraying him. That, and the tightness of his jeans over his own arousal.

Jensen shoves a leg between Jared's thighs, pressing his shin right up against Jared's hard-on.

The groan that spills from Jared's lips is even better when it's against Jensen's skin, vibrating over his cock as Jared takes him into his mouth again. Leaning forward, Jensen grabs onto the arms of the chair Jared had been sitting in and braces himself. Pivoting his hips, he drives into Jared, and Jared meets the thrust and every one after it, sucking him off as Jensen fucks into him hard and fast. Jensen squeezes his eyes shut, lost in the sensation.

There's the sound of a zipper, then clothes rustling. Then Jensen's pant leg is being pushed up and he feels Jared's cock — the hot, solid weight of it — against his bare skin. The slick, silken head dampens the hairs on Jensen's shin and calf as Jared ruts against him. Jensen wants to see it, wants to hold Jared's cock tight in his fist, find out how well it fits his mouth, how far it stretches him. But he can't stop, can't move away. He can't hold on much longer either.

Jared's mouth is already full of Jensen's cock, but then he fills it even further. When Jared's finger slips in alongside Jensen's cock, Jensen bites at his own shoulder, teeth digging into drawn-up muscle and tongue fuzzed on cotton, to stifle his own cry.

But Jensen goes dead quiet when Jared's slick finger sneaks down the crack of his ass. The pad of Jared's fingertip tugs at Jensen's hole, slipping just past the ring and pulling, toying. Jared taps against the hole lightly, doing the same with his tongue under the head of Jensen's cock. Then, as Jensen pushes into Jared's mouth again, Jared presses his finger inside. It snags, the spit already beginning to dry. But Jensen moves automatically now, abandoned to the rhythm. He shoves back hard as he pulls out of Jared's mouth and Jared's finger goes in all the way. Another thrust forward and backward, and Jensen feels Jared's finger brush against his prostate, a wild shock. Jared catches on quick, hooking his finger and stroking, stroking the same spot every time, relentless.

Jensen's thrusts stutter to a stop. His back curls, muscles straining against the sweat-drenched fabric of his t-shirt. He comes, white blind behind his eyes, hips starting up again, surging forward to find the hot suction of Jared's mouth, rocking back to pin himself on Jared's long, thick finger again and again.

He doesn't stop until he's almost soft. And neither does Jared, fingering him, working his tongue and lips over him, rubbing himself off on Jensen's still-shaky leg.

Jensen straightens his back, hands on Jared's shoulders to keep his balance in check. He glances down when Jared pulls off. There's a string of come connecting Jensen's cock and Jared's mouth. Then Jared swipes his tongue over his bottom lip, breaking it. Jensen watches the come fall against Jared's chin, trailing down toward his neck where his Adam's apple bobs.

Jared swallows compulsively when he comes, throat working and lips pressed to a thin line. Jensen rubs his leg against Jared's cock, helping him along. Between them, he sees the last trickle of come slick his own leg, Jared's cock slipping in the mess he's left. Fat, white drops run down toward Jensen's socks, stand out against the worn leather of his boot, and he's going to have to clean that off before it stains. But right now he's fascinated by the sight of Jared's lips, so red and swollen.

Jensen absently kneads the back of Jared's neck and lowers himself to the floor so they’re face to face.

They've both barely caught their breath, but Jensen moves forward, capturing Jared's mouth in a sloppy, open kiss. There's a clash of teeth and they're panting more than they're kissing, but Jared's tongue meets Jensen's and they keep going, frantic like they didn't just get off.

Jared strokes his hands over Jensen's thighs, then pushes away. "Jensen," he says as Jensen leans in again. "We should get out of here."

"Yeah?" Jensen says, drowsy, lips brushing against Jared's anyway. But he starts tucking Jared back into his pants and then does up his own jeans, letting Jared know he's on board with this plan.

"Yeah," Jared says. "I've got a nice, big bed at home."

"Mmmm," Jensen says, getting to his feet. He offers his hand to Jared.

Jared takes it, gripping Jensen's hip as he stands. He presses close, stealing a kiss. "And I've got an even nicer camera." He waggles his eyebrows, grins wider than a Cheshire cat.

Jensen throws back his head and laughs at Jared's ridiculous face. When Jared puts on an exaggerated pout, it just makes him laugh harder. Grabbing Jared's wrist, Jensen says, "Come on."

They don't quite make it to Jared's bed. But their camera phones come in handy.

**Author's Note:**

> Summary is a prompt from someone at [](http://blindfold_spn.livejournal.com/profile)[**blindfold_spn**](http://blindfold_spn.livejournal.com/) where this fic was [originally posted](http://blindfold-spn.livejournal.com/4508.html?thread=5757084).


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